


Dreaming of Times Gone By

by MonPetitTresor



Series: Sam is Sigyn [1]
Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Supernatural
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, M/M, One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Lives, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Slow Burn, Trickster Gabriel, for now, if there's interest, it's supernatural that's what happens, slightly different lore, to be continued later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:45:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6935719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a while now Sam’s been having strange dreams. Dreams of a time long gone, a time he should have no memory over. At first Sam thought it was all part of his wall breaking, but as time went on and they kept coming, he began to realize that maybe there was something more here. Maybe these dreams were trying to tell him something. But, what?</p><p>When Sam decides to try and get some answers, he discovers that things may be a whole lot more complicated than he’d realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this really old prompt when I was reading on LJ last night and it wouldn't let me go. If you don't want big details (which I think are obvious anyways) spoiled, then skip the rest of the notes :D
> 
> Anyways, the prompt was:
> 
> Sam is Sigyn's reincarnation, and Loki's wife, only he is unaware of his connection to the former trickster. If Gabriel knows that Sam and Sigyn are one and the same or not authors choice.
> 
> Cannon S 7 can be AU S 8 if author wants
> 
> Bobby's dead. Cas and Dean are in Purgatory & Sam keeps on having strange dreams about a man who looks crazily like the trickster but doesn't act a thing like the man Sam used to know. In the dreams The Trickster is kind and loving towards Sam which makes no sense as they were all but enemies up until 10 mins before the angel’s death at Lucifer’s hands.
> 
> Then there is the fact that in the dreams Gabriel refers to Sam as "Siege" or Sigyn and always in a fond tone as if no one means more to him in that moment then "Sam". The dreams always leave Sam longing for the being he had once claimed to hate as well as confused as to why he is always this Sigyn in his dreams; unfortunately the one being that could tell him is over 2 yrs. dead which leaves him with the daunting task of trying to find a way to resurrect the long dead Trickster archangel in order to get the answers he seek and the love he has begun to so desperately crave.
> 
> This here is my take on that! Not quite the same but, meh, I loved it.

Sam couldn’t pinpoint when the dreams started. He wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind at the time to be able to separate these kinds of dreams from the rest of the dreams that were playing through his head each time that he got to sleep. It was fresh after Castiel had broken the wall in his mind and everything was already a jumbled up mess. What were a few more strange dreams added into the mix? For all he knew these were more images that Lucifer sent, tricks played on him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. Sam was just grateful that there was the occasional break from the hell pain and torture that screamed its way through his nights.

They started out as just sensations. Sounds, feelings, things that floated through a hazy darkness. If there was more he never remembered it upon waking. They were just these hazy things that broke between the dreams of torture. Sam drew strength from them, kept his mind stronger even with the assault of hundreds of years in the Cage that was bombarding his mind.

It wasn’t until after Castiel took the crazy from him, once Sam started to be able to think and live and breathe again without fear that he was going to come apart, that he realized the dreams weren’t a part of all that insanity. They were something else. Something _more_. Only, there was no time to figure out what exactly that ‘more’ was. There were much bigger problems that Sam had to worry about – the leviathan.

Sam pushed the dreams to the back of his mind and tried not to focus on them as he turned his full attention to trying to stop the leviathan. There’d be time later to wonder about things. Time when the whole world wasn’t at risk of being devoured by these creatures.

Then... then the final battle happened, and Sam’s world came crashing down once more.

* * *

Sometimes Sam thought that those strange dreams were the only thing that got him through his time without Dean. With his brother and their angel gone – in Purgatory, though Sam had no idea at the time – the younger Winchester was lost and alone and had no idea what to do with himself. He had no idea how to begin to live a life without his brother in it. Some days, it felt like existing was too hard. Like he didn’t even have the strength to just _be_.

But each night he had those dreams. And, strange though it may be, they gave him something to hold on to. They gave him strength.

The more he had of them, the clearer they became, more and more sensations slipping through until finally, just months after Dean and Castiel had vanished and Sam had just started to settle in with Amelia, the hunter had the first full dream that he could remember clearly once he woke.

It started out hazy, as they all did, only to grow into something sharp and clear and just as real as any of his own memories.

_The soft lights of the torches gave a sort of ethereal glow to the ballroom around them. Everything was set up beautifully, all the decorations done just so, and it was matched only by the people who were even more beautiful, talking and laughing and dancing through the room._

_Sam couldn’t explain the bored feeling that he felt, only that it was there. He knew without knowing how that this just wasn’t his type of thing. He didn’t want to be here and he wouldn’t be if it hadn’t been forced upon him. Yet he was too kind to admit that to anyone. So here he was, pushed into a place with people he didn’t care for, forced to be polite and play pretend until enough time had passed that it’d be safe to escape._

_The room felt stifling. Sam slid his way through the crowd, towards a set of doors that he knew - how did he know? - led out to the outdoor gardens. They’d be much better than being in here. Anything had to be better than this._

_The first slap of cool air against his skin was heavenly. He drew in a deep breath and felt it settle down into his lungs, chasing away the lingering scents of the crowded ballroom that had been choking him before._

_He was just about to take a step forward when he heard the soft shuffle of movement nearby followed by a low, amused laugh. Sam spun, one hand going to his belt where he kept a knife carefully hidden, only to find someone far too familiar standing there. “Here I thought I was the only one bored in there.” the man said. Mischief sparkled in his eyes and his smile was enticing, pulling one from Sam before he realized it. The man was sitting on a stone wall nearby, legs swinging lazily and his heels clicking together, hands propped up on either side of him to hold his weight as he leaned in towards her. “What is a beauty like you doing wandering the gardens alone instead of twirling on the arm of some handsome man?”_

_“Find me one and I might.” Sam shot back, the words tumbling past his lips before he could even think. He felt himself smiling, a true spark of amusement in his chest. “Until then, I believe the flowers might provide better company.”_

_The man let out another of those laughs of his and Sam shivered underneath the warmth of it._

_Suddenly the man leapt down and landed just a few feet in front of Sam. He wasn’t dressed like everyone else, opting instead for simple clothes in the black he usually wore. Closing the distance between them, the man stopped right at Sam’s side and held out his arm, offering Sam his elbow. “Allow me to escort you at least, my dear. Mayhap I can prove myself better company than the flowers.”_

_The others would be scandalized, Sam knew, though how he knew he wasn’t quite sure. But as he looked into the amber eyes of his companion, there was only a brief hesitation before he lifted a hand and accepted the escort. “We shall have to see, won’t we?”_

_The answering smile that Sam got for that was enough to put the beauty of the gardens to shame._

Sam woke from that dream with a jerk and a gasp that was enough to wake Amelia at his side. She sat up with him, one hand going to his heaving chest, her other going to rub lightly at his arm. “Sam?” Her voice was low and heavy with sleep, yet full of concern. “Another nightmare?” This wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken from a nightmare in her bed. She was pretty used to dealing with them.

For a moment Sam couldn’t speak. That dream hadn’t been a nightmare. But then he found himself murmuring a low “Yeah” in response, and he let her coax him back down into the bed and soothe him down with gentle strokes of her slender hands until she must’ve believed him asleep and drifted back off herself.

Sam lay there for a long time and stared up at the ceiling, replaying the dream over and over in his mind, wondering about what he’d seen and what he’d felt. So many questions popped into his mind that he didn’t have answers for. What had that dream been? Why did it… why did it seem so familiar? Less like a dream and more like a memory.

And why had Gabriel been there?

* * *

The dreams didn’t come every single night. Sometimes they didn’t come for weeks, and sometimes they came twice a week. There was no real rhyme or reason to them.  They came when they wanted and seemed to get clearer each time. And in each and every one of them, there was Gabriel—or, as he’d been then, _Loki_.

Dreaming about Gabriel wasn’t entirely strange. Sam had dreamt of him once or twice before; dreams that he wouldn’t dare admit to anyone else. He’d been attracted to the janitor back when they first met him and that hadn’t changed even when they discovered who he really was. Lucifer had liked to make Sam dream of him as well. Showing him his death and letting Sam know just how much of it was his fault. How Gabriel would be alive if it weren’t for Sam bringing him into a war he’d had no part in.

What Sam found strange, what got to him surprisingly more than Gabriel’s presence, was the realization just a few dreams in that in these dreams he had, he wasn’t _Sam_. He wasn’t even _male_.

Whoever he was dreaming as, he was female.

One who, judging by the moments he was glimpsing, Gabriel was _courting_.

Ridiculous as it may have seemed, that realization was enough to push Sam towards trying to find a way to stop this. It was that which scared him into drinking before bed in the hopes that the cushion of drunkenness might shield him from the oddity of these dreams that he couldn’t explain and didn’t understand.

Amelia didn’t question it. Sam knew she assumed it was his grief, this thing he was running from that he wouldn’t tell her about, that had him acting this way. He let her think that. She never questioned him on it, never pushed where he didn’t want her to push. She just quietly picked up the bottles at night and slipped into bed at his side, taking just as much comfort as she was offering, each of them lost in their own way and clinging to one another in hopes of staying steady for just a little while longer.

* * *

Life changed again for Sam when his brother came back home – with a vampire in tow. Not only was he alive, he’d apparently been in purgatory this whole time, fighting to get back home, back to Sam. The guilt Sam felt at not trying to find Dean when he’d been _alive_ this whole time was enough to gnaw at his insides. That guilt worked better than the alcohol on numbing Sam from his strange dreams, replacing them instead with ones that left him gasping and shaking for entirely different reasons.

* * *

It wasn’t until they’d discovered the Men of Letters bunker and were setting up their home – their first real home aside from the Impala – that the dreams started to come back.

Only this time, Sam was done hiding from them. This time around, he was going to get some answers. Why on earth was he dreaming that he was a woman – and why did all of his dreams seem to feature Gabriel?


	2. Chapter 2

A low sigh slid from Sam as he slumped down into one of the chairs at the long table in the library, tossing his notebook down on the table in front of him. Relaxing back in his chair, he took a moment to look around him and center himself. It still felt sort of strange to be here; like they were visiting someone else’s house instead of staying in a place that was going to be their own. They’d only been staying here for just a few days now. While Dean seemed to have taken right to the place, making it into a _home_ , it was taking Sam just a bit longer to settle in. The idea of having a home that wasn’t the Impala was one that Sam wasn’t quite sure how to handle. The last time he’d lived somewhere for any length of time had been back at Stanford, with Jess. That hadn’t exactly gone well in the end.

Sam lifted a hand and rubbed it over his face in the hopes of pushing back some of the tiredness that sat there. Deep, introspective thoughts were the last thing he needed right now. He’d had another of his strange dreams last night and they always left him feeling sort of emotionally raw. Not that the dreams were bad – in a sense, they were kind of… sweet. But dreaming of being a woman, dreaming of freaking _Gabriel_ , it was so damn strange it left Sam completely off kilter. He had no idea what to even begin to do with all of it or even how to react to them.

Picking up a pen from nearby, Sam pulled over the notebook that he’d set down on the table earlier. As had become habit lately, he flipped the notebook open to the nearest blank page and began to write down every single detail of the dreams that he could remember. It felt strange to do it; less like he was recording dreams and more like he was… writing in a diary, of a sort. But it kind of helped him to look back over them. His hopes were that doing this would allow him to look back and find details that he hadn’t noticed before. Little things that might not seem important during the dream but that might actually help him in the long run. Maybe if he noticed something important in these, it might lead him to finding out _why_ he was having these dreams. What was the purpose of them?

As he wrote, parts of the dream played over in his mind. He could still feel a faint echo of the same joy that had been inside of him while he was dreaming.

_Laughter bubbled up Sam’s throat as she felt another tug on her hands. The blindfold over her eyes prevented her from seeing where she was going, yet she held no fear of falling. The one leading would never let that happen. “Where are you taking me?”_

_She heard an answering laugh just ahead of her and could easily picture the expression that would be on that familiar face – a face she was coming to count as dearer to her than any others out there. “You’d have me ruin the surprise?” Loki asked her teasingly. “After all the trouble I went to set it up for you?”_

_“Oh, you have my most sincere apologies. I did not mean to belittle all the hard work you did snapping your fingers. I’m sure they’re quite tired by now.”_

_It was freeing to know that she could say words like that and not have to fear offending the one she was speaking to. With others, she played quiet and meek, reigning in the more playful side of herself. With Loki she was free to let it soar. He enjoyed every second of it. Every sharp word, every cutting retort, every hint of temper or humor, he encouraged them all._

_The sound of his laughter was like wings on her heart. “Your sharp tongue wounds me, my sweet thorny rose.”_

_Sam couldn’t help how she scoffed at that even as she laughed. “Your compliments need some work, trickster.” The word that was said with so much scorn from others fell from her lips with a loving lilt._

_“You love my compliments.”_

The two of them had gone on to share the most wonderful picnic. Sam could still remember the blanket under his legs, the scent of fresh food, and the beautiful view – a view he hadn’t cared to admire, too caught up in admiring the view of the being that shared the blanket with him. Sam had been content to watch Loki for hours. The way that he smiled, that light in his eyes, or how he looked at Sam like (s)he was the most gorgeous thing around. The adoration in his eyes had Sam stunned and humbled, even now that he was awake. The Loki that Sam saw in his dreams was so very different from the Gabriel that _he_ knew.

The Gabriel that he knew was rougher, cynical, and more bitter. There'd been anger and grief in him that Sam had only glimpsed a time or two, and then finally saw in its raw entirety that day they’d had him trapped in the circle of holy fire. That had been a being that had been changed by time and turned into something that was hard and dangerous. Someone who, in the end, had died for them, who had stood up for what was right even if it'd taken him a while to get there. He'd been someone that Sam had related to. Sam could understand the need to run away. He could understand the anger.

In contrast, the Loki in his dreams was so very different.

Loki had been hard, yes, and sharp in some ways, but it'd all been tempered by a sort of zest that Sam had only _glimpsed_ in Gabriel. One that hadn't been stamped out yet. Loki was bright smiles and laughing eyes. He was dangerous, yes, but caring. There'd been humor and so much emotion hidden underneath all the pranks. His eyes hadn't been as shadowed as the ones that Sam knew. And Sam had never seen them look his way with the kind of affection in them that was in Loki's eyes in the dreams.

It was all confusing as hell and Sam wasn't sure what to make of it. What he was learning about Loki was hard to match up with what he knew about Gabriel. There were similarities there and yet the differences were immense. They were almost like two different people. Sam tried not to groan as he rubbed a hand over his forehead. Barely awake and already he could feel the headache brewing. There had to be some way to be able to figure all this out. These dreams, they weren’t normal. But why on earth would he be dreaming about Loki?

Sam wanted to ask Dean but he also didn’t want to deal with the teasing about dreaming himself as a woman – countless Samantha jokes would come – and he wasn’t sure how Dean would take it to hear that Sam was dreaming about the trickster of all beings. The two had butted heads pretty much every time they’d dealt with one another. They were too much alike for them not to.

Maybe if they had Castiel around, maybe if he was acting normal, they might be able to ask him. But things were so strange with Castiel right now it wasn’t easy to ask him anything. Especially not when they weren’t sure what else was going on.

Looking around the library, Sam tried to push back his headache and his worries and think about this logically. Whenever something didn't make sense in the past, he'd always researched it until it did. This didn't have to be any different. The Men of Letters had a ton of books on pretty much everything. Somewhere in here there had to be some books on dreams. What would it hurt to find a few and read them? Even if he didn’t find anything to help, gaining knowledge was never a bad thing. You never knew when it was going to come in handy in their line of work.

Suddenly much more comfortable and confident – research was always an area that he felt confident in – Sam straightened himself up. He closed the notebook where he’d written his dream and set it aside, making a mental note to take it back to his room later before Dean could see it. Then he pushed up from the table and turned towards the bookshelves. It was time to stop whining about all of this and start researching.

Within moments he had a stack of books in his arms and had retrieved his laptop, setting it all up at the end of the table. If he was lucky he could get in an hour or two of research before Dean woke up.

* * *

Juggling research – secret research that he was trying so very hard not to let anyone know about – on top of their other work wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. Sam couldn’t really explain even to himself why he was so adamant about not letting Dean know what was going on. Sure, he knew his brother would probably mock him mercilessly if he found out that Sam was dreaming of being a woman. He also knew that Dean would get pissed when he found out it was Gabriel of all beings that Sam was dreaming about. But Sam was also pretty sure that it would be _Gabriel_ that Dean would end up pissed off at, seeing as how Sam was the innocent one in all of this. Yet still, Sam didn’t tell him.

He should’ve known better than to think it would last. If there was anything he’d learned from their past, it was that keeping secrets from his brother never really worked out. The fact that he’d kept these dreams a secret for as long as he had was kind of amazing. He should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

It didn’t help that his dreams seemed to be becoming more and more frequent now. It was almost like, now that Sam was actively paying attention to them and trying to research them, they were growing in intensity and frequency. Every night for a week straight Sam dreamed of Loki. Of dates and moments and sweet nothings that had him waking up longing for someone who wasn’t there. It had him looking around sometimes like he expected someone else to be there when he and Dean were talking, or like he expected someone other than his brother to walk into the room. None of that even touched on the headache that seemed to have become an almost constant companion now as well.

Sam wasn’t stupid enough to think that Dean wouldn’t notice anything going on. But it wasn’t until they were on a case that it all finally came crashing down.

The case wasn’t any real big deal. Just a spirit that they had to go up against a couple times before they found her bones and could salt and burn her. Unfortunately, Sam’s tendency to get choked by pretty much everything had once more come into play, meaning that Sam was rather sore and raspy that night when he stumbled back into their hotel room. He’d been too exhausted to pay much attention to anything. Not even Dean’s hands on him were enough to wake him up. Sam was far too used to his brother undressing him and tucking him in for it to be more than a blip on his radar.

If he’d been thinking clearly, he might’ve remembered his brother’s tendency to stay up and watch over Sam if he was too worried about him.

Everything seemed sort of normal when Sam woke up the morning after their case. His brother was already up, sitting on the other bed and drinking a cup of coffee. He watched as Sam sat up, that usual hint of concern in his eyes. It wasn’t as noticeable as it’d been years ago but Sam knew how to read him. He knew his brother better than Sam knew himself, really. Because of that, he was able to see the concerned way Dean watched him, as well as something that seemed just a bit guarded. “You all right there, Sammy?” Dean asked him. “How’s the throat?”

A testing swallow told Sam it was a lot better than he’d expected. “Not too bad.” For a brief moment, he almost startled at the sound of his own voice. At how deep it was. His mind was still caught just slightly in his last dream. In there, he and Loki – _she and Loki –_ had snuck away for some alone time away from everyone. He’d taken Sam to Álfheim to see the light-elves. It’d been the most amazing and beautiful thing that Sam had ever seen. In his head he could clearly remember the way that Loki had smiled at Sam’s awe, the pure and honest joy in his face at bringing happiness, and how his hand had so comfortably fit against Sam’s cheek as he’d murmured about how “The beauty of the elves pales in comparison to the beauty here in my hand.”

The joy that had brought Sam was still with him now as he sat there in his crappy motel bed.

The sound of Dean clearing his throat broke Sam’s focus. He looked up to find that his brother had sat forward and crossed his legs. His elbows were resting on either knee and his coffee was cradled in his hands while his eyes fixed right on Sam. One of his eyebrows arched and Sam had to forcibly remind himself that this wasn’t Loki looking at him that way, it was Dean.

“There something you wanna tell me, Sammy?” Dean asked him casually. The kind of casual that meant it wasn’t really casual at all.

Sam furrowed his brows in confusion. “No?”

“You sure about that?”

Though he ached a little, Sam pushed himself up until he was sitting better in bed. It let him comfortably face his brother. There was something going on here and he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Why was Dean looking at him like that? “Dean, what’s going on?”

What Dean said next had Sam freezing. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Oh. _Oh, hell_. He’d been talking in his sleep? Sam could only imagine the types of things he’d said. No wonder Dean looked like he’d settled in for a hell of a conversation. He was obviously prepared for some sort of fight about this. The way he was trying to be so casual, the forced relaxation of his body, all of those were signs of Dean settling in for what he was sure was going to be a rather epic fight. Once, it might’ve been. Sam might’ve fought and denied everything. He might’ve insisted that his dreams were his own and none of Dean’s business.

He didn’t do it now. What was the point? Dean knew something was going on, and honestly, Sam knew he could use the help. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this on his own. Sam sighed and slumped a little in his seat. “I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

“Tell me what?”

With a deep breath, Sam made himself lift his eyes and tell Dean everything. And he really told him _everything_. From the first dream straight through to the present moment. Sam laid it all out for his brother, and Dean, surprisingly, listened to it all with only a few wide-eyed looks and a couple curses. By the time Sam was done, Dean was just staring at him, obviously shocked but just as obviously annoyed. “You didn’t think this was something I should _know_ , Sam?”

“Dude, _I_ had a hard time accepting it. You really think I knew how to bring it up to you? Besides, I was more than happy not to deal with the Samantha jokes.”

“So instead you decided to, what, let whatever the hell this is keep messing with your dreams? Real smart, Sam.” Dean shook his head and made a low disgusted sound. “Did you even think of getting some kind of dream protection? Or asking Cas to try and ward your head?”

Sam blinked a few times as he stared at his brother. “Well… no.” He hadn’t thought of that, really. He’d been more focused on trying to figure out what was going on than on trying to ward his head against something. Seeing his brother’s disgusted look grow, Sam hurried to try and defend himself. “It doesn’t feel malicious, Dean. Trust me, I’ve had lots of things get inside my head. I know what it feels like when they’re there for trouble, even in dreams. This, it doesn’t feel like that.”

“Then what does it feel like?”

“Honestly?” Sam paused and lifted his hands, palms up. “They feel like dreams. Regular, ordinary dreams. Like when I dream about things I used to do with Jess, or things I did with you.” That was what they felt like. Just regular dreams – memories. It was one of the things that scared Sam the most. These felt normal and real. They didn’t feel like they belonged to someone else. Only, that didn’t make any sense, as Dean was quick to point out. “Except, you’re not a girl, Sammy, and you sure as hell never dated _Loki_.” Dean spat out. “Not unless there’s something _else_ you’re not telling me.”

“No!” Sam couldn’t help how his cheeks heated. He’d never _dated_ Gabriel, or Loki, but – no, no, those kinds of thoughts didn’t count. They’d never dated. They’d never been anything close to that with one another.

The motel room went quiet for a little bit while both brothers tried to think and calm themselves down. Sam felt more than a little off kilter. He’d described some of the details of the dreams to Dean – enough to explain what was happening in them – but he hadn’t explained how exactly it made him feel. That felt way too personal. Way too much. He couldn’t even begin to explain that part to himself. How was he supposed to say it to Dean?

As Sam stared down at his hands which were neatly folded in his lap, another set of eyes were focused right on his face. Dean watched his brother from the opposite bed and felt his annoyance slowly draining away. He’d known that something was going on with Sam for a while now. But this? This hadn’t been what he’d expected. How was he supposed to help Sam out against _dreams_? And it was clear he had to help him somehow. The way that Sam had his head bowed, the bags that had been under his eyes lately, the slight slump to his shoulders, all of those things brought up the urges in Dean that never went away no matter how old they got, the ones that screamed at him to protect his little brother.

When Dean finally broke the silence that had fallen over them, it was in a much calmer voice than Sam had anticipated. “Well if it’s not a creature coming after you, it seems like the best bet would be to go after one of these two you’re dreaming about. This Sigyn girl, or Gabriel.”

The words were surprising, yet they were ultimately pointless. “They’re both dead, Dean. Sigyn died a long time ago, if I remember the lore right. An Gabriel…” They both knew how Gabriel had died.

It didn’t stop Dean, though. He shrugged one shoulder and then took a drink off his coffee. The anger from before was gone from his face now. He looked calm. Really, honestly calm this time, not the forced calm he’d been before confronting Sam. “So? Everyone else got brought back. Who’s to say he didn’t? It’s worth looking into.”

Okay, that was true, but still. Sam couldn’t believe that Dean of all people was suggesting they hunt down _Gabriel_. Narrowing his eyes, Sam stared at his brother long enough that Dean began to squirm and finally snapped out “What? Quit looking at me like that!”

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

A scowl twisted Dean’s features. “Oh, shut up!” In a quick move, he snagged his pillow and sent it flying at Sam’s head. He didn’t manage to duck in time and it caught him square in the face. When he pulled it down, he found that Dean was already on his feet and moving to gather up his things. “Get a move on, bitch. No point in sitting around wasting time.”

Sam couldn’t quite help the swell of love he felt for his big brother in that moment. He was beaming as he rose up off his own bed and tossed Dean’s pillow back down. Across the room, he caught his brother’s eye and let his grin grow. The snarky “Bite me, jerk” that he threw out had Dean flashing a grin back at him. It wasn’t the ‘I love you’ that other families out there might give to one another, but it was their own version of it, one that had worked for them for a long, long time. It still worked even now, even after all the horrible things they’d been through, after their relationship had been broken apart and pieced back together so many times Sam had been afraid it’d never be the same again. Even with all that, there were some things that were still there.

Holding on to the comfort of that, Sam gathered his things together to head back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now an awesome series, of which I already have 20k written for (So don't worry, it's not just a half done piece of crap, folks)
> 
> I'll get it all posted as I edit it. Let me know what you think of everything, please! Comments fuel the writer XD

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see more, please, comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> This is kind of fast paced because it's like the prologue. If I add more, which I probably will because I'm loving this, it'll be slower, not jumping time so fast. I just needed this to help set the scene and get everything ready for the story to come :)


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